Move Along
by Sakura's Pointe Shoes
Summary: No matter how tough life is, everyone still has to move on.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Move Along

**Summary: **K+

**Genre: **Romance, of course

**A/N:** I don't know why I wrote this. It's been on my computer for ages now, and I think now's the time to get rid of it and post it, lol.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. If I did, NW's pregnancy would have been written into the script. 'Nuff said.

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* * *

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Two years had passed.

It was a long two years, filled with nothing but work and he found himself sticking to the essentials; only living for the day. He almost didn't care anymore.

If not for those occassional reminders of what was waiting for him, he was sure he would have gone home and dove straight for the tequila. Alcohol did a lovely job of numbing the mind when enough was consumed.

So far, he hadn't touched a drop. She wouldn't have wanted him to drink himself to death because of her. She wanted him alive, it was all a part of her master plan. A plan which he still wasn't quite sure of, but he was looking forward to it all the same.

The other day he received a parcel at home; it had no return address, but it had been sent from somewhere in New York City. He didn't open it at first, weary and suspicious since he didn't know anyone in New York City save a few contacts he hadn't spoken to in years. He hid the box at the back of his closet, where it was far enough out of sight yet never too far should he forget it.

After a few days of staring at the brown wrapped box, Harry decided that it couldn't hurt, the worst case scenario would be that he'd die of anthrax poisoning, and at the moment, he wouldn't mind if he did.

There was a white envelope with his name scrawled on the front in distantly familiar handwriting. His heart began to race, blood pumping faster through his veins, as he tore the end of the envelope off. He yanked out the inside of it and was disheartened to find only a postcard with a picture of the Empire State Building on it. When he turned it over, he found a cryptic message frantically scribbled in neat cursive on the back:

_Almost time. I'll contact you. _

There was a pause in the lines, as if she couldn't decide what to write, and then he saw the last three words.

_I miss you._

He slumped back in his chair, emotionally drained and inadvertently angry at her, for putting him through this. He shook his head and steeled himself for another day.

* * *

The next clue was equally if not more confusing, and if he didn't peruse his memory, Harry was sure that he wouldn't have caught on.

A bouquet of purple and blue roses had been sent to Ruth's "grave." He still visited it, not as often, but he made sure to stop by every once in a while when his schedule allowed it. The unusual combination of flowers were artfully arranged, and only an expert would have known that blue roses signified hope while the purple was a symbol of eternal love.

The only reason he remembered was because he once dated a florist, years and years ago.

He knew intuitively that she sent them. The tag that came on the bouquet read, _"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."_

He smiled wanly, the words of Oscar Wilde briefly echoing in his mind and suddenly he could hear her voice again, as if she was beside him, whispering them in his ear. He left the cemetery, knowing that it wouldn't be long before he saw _her_ again, face to face.

TBC???


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, ok, since you guys insisted I write more for this, here's the second chapter!! Not much else to say, for once. Just R and R, make me a happy camper.

* * *

The plane ride was the longest and worst of his life. When he booked the seat, he was in too much of a hurry to imagine what it would be like in person. It was in the row of seats in front of the lavatory, and the woman next to him had a four month old baby.

Being among normal people was probably one of the most comforting experiences he'd had in years, despite the pungent stink and unstoppable screaming. The hours went by slowly, barely crawling by, and he kept himself occupied by watching their flight's progress on the TV screen on the back of the chair in front of him. He quizzed himself on the names of various state capitals in the U.S., and found that either his memory wasn't as good as it used to be, or he was just too tired to summon the answers.

Harry didn't sleep at all. Yes, the infant's bawling was a large factor in his insomnia, but the thoughts of Ruth were too strong, way too overwhelming to ignore. He kept his eyes closed, imagining her waiting for him at the airport with that smile of hers and oh--those eyes...He missed her so much, it made his chest hurt.

When they landed in New York, it was all he could do to stay still in his chair. His limbs tingled with anticipation and his fingers shook as they gripped his single suitcase. It would only be a few more hours until he met with her. Only a few hours until he'd see her, be able to touch her and feel her, to see that she was surviving and well.

He selfishly imagined that she missed him as much as he did her.

* * *

It took him a while to find a cab. If it was difficult to get hail a car in London, it was damned near impossible to get one in the Big Apple. After four or five unsuccessful attempts, one of the nicer drivers bothered to pull over and take him on.

"The Village, please."

He stared out the window at the slate gray sky, observing the people on foot. Men with their dogs, women with their children, younger couples, especially around Central Park...The atmosphere was generally laid-back yet bustling, it honestly did feel like a concrete jungle, what with all the sky scrapers and buildings and things. It felt as if anything was possible. He felt he could assimilate himself into this new place, he could blend in and disappear. No one would ever come to him, he could live the rest of his life a relatively peaceful existence.

The car slowed and rolled up to the sidewalk. He heaved a sigh and pushed the door open. It was time.

* * *

The apartment building wasn't top of the line, but it wasn't in the ghetto. He kept himself as inconspicuous as possible. He didn't speak to anyone in the corridors, he went straight to the lift. He glanced at the small, worn piece of paper in his hand and checked the house number.

The door stared ominously at him, and he eyed it back equally as wary.

He knocked twice and waited. He leaned on one foot, waiting anxiously. He always imagined their reunion, now it was about to play out in reality. It all felt out of place, almost like a fantasy. He couldn't quite shake himself of the feeling.

The door was nearly flung open. He might as well have fainted.

"You came." She whispered like she was convinced otherwise. He would have been annoyed, if he wasn't so ecstatic and relieved to see her. Her color was high, rosy cheeks and teary eyes, in other words, she was lovely as ever. She stepped back, inviting him inside. His legs moved of their own accord, and he dropped his bag as soon as she shut the door.

In an instant, he had enveloped her in a tight embrace, tangling his fingers in her hair, relishing the scent of her sultry perfume, and so glad that she hadn't changed _at all._ She was still his, still beautiful, still purely _Ruth,_ her persona wasn't spoiled by the meaningless legend she lived with for the past couple of years.

He didn't let her go, how could he? He kissed her roughly, delighted to feel her response beneath him. When they broke apart, she gently caressed the haphazard stubble on his cheek and smiled, positively glowing with radiance. Her attentions had given him a rather smug pleasure, he loved how he could make her so happy by simply holding her.

"Did you miss me?" She asked quietly.

"More than you could ever know," He growled before claiming her warm lips again.

END


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